


"I hate you." he whispered lovingly, hating him with passion.

by Tael



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aromantic Harry Potter, Enemies to Friends to Partners, Fake Dating, Gen, Greyromantic Draco Malfoy, Hate Fluff, Platonic Life Partners
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:28:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28321638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tael/pseuds/Tael
Summary: He should have shut up, they both thought for months on end. It was their 4th year, Harry needed someone to go to the Ball with. Draco just wanted to have fun with Potter, mocking him. Harry took the opportunity to insult him. Draco venged himself by humiliating him in the Great Hall during dinner. Harry followed, trying to out do him. None of the two would step down.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	1. The Art of Asking Out someone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PythagoreanPentagram](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PythagoreanPentagram/gifts).



> Thank you Rem and your sleeping brain for the concept of Hate Fluff that gave birth to this fanfiction. I just needed an excuse to write it once and for all uwu.

The Yule Ball was coming up and Harry still did not know who he would ask out. He was the champion, but the girl he was thinking about was already taken — by another champion nonetheless! That was annoying him. He could decently not arrive single. If only his name hadn't come out of the cup!

"Hey Potty-Potter, who's the lucky lady who's coming with you to the Ball? If you can find one who'll agree to come with you"  
"Fuck off Malfoy"

Days passed by and Harry had still not asked any other girl. He'd tried, but it had been very much awkward, and the few times he had actually gone through with it, the girl was already taken. 

"Heard you still had nobody Potter, surely you'll end up with the ugliest partner of the night!" called out Malfoy just before Potions class.  
"Don't pay him attention Harry." 

Hermione, always voice of reason. If only Harry could listen to her more. He turned around to face Malfoy.

"You know what? If you did just one little thing, that would happen."  
"Oh?" His eyes shined with interest. "You're that desperate to find someone, I'd pity you. Alright, tell me, what do I have to do?"

Harry smirked and put a knee down.

"Oh Malfoy, who couldn't be handsome if he tried, would you go to the Ball with me?"

The face Malfoy made… priceless. It reddened, as much as a Malfoy face could be any other colour than dead pale white. 

Before he could answer anything — probably screaming "My father will hear of it" or something like that — Snape opened the door, inviting them all in. Harry thanked Magic for the fact looks couldn't kill, even in the Wizard World. Gryffindors were cheering on him, Slytherins plotting his death.

Harry survived Potions and left the Slytherins for Charms class, he didn't see nor hear from Malfoy until dinner. And oooh boy he did not expect to see so much of Malfoy for dinner. 

All started well as Harry sat down with his friends, happy to eat after this long day, talking about things and others. They laughed thinking about the face Malfoy had made earlier that day. A white dove appeared right above Harry's plate, holding a flower in its beak. No more laughing, Harry held out his hand to grab the flower, and the dove disappeared.

"What in the flying—"

Focused on the flower, he didn't see his friends' faces as someone taped on his shoulder. Another dove. Another flower. And then a whole bunch of flowers. Harry had spent a lot of time in Petunia's garden, working on her plants and flowers, but he didn't know all of these flowers names. Probably were they magic.

Whoever was behind the bunch of flowers, one knee dropped on the floor, handed out the bunch of flowers. Harry did not move. The flowers were moved hesitantly, and he grabbed them, revealing the identity of the mysterious person.

"Would you do me the honour of going to the Yule Ball with me?"  
"What the fuck are you doing Malfoy?"  
"I thought it was obvious enough." He stood up and took Harry's hands in his. "Will you be my partner? Will you let me be yours?"

Harry.exe is frozen, do you want to wait for it to answer, or do you want to close it?

"I asked you first," he managed to get out.

Malfoy chuckled. He opened a bit his mouth, but closed it again, biting his lip. Harry could see he was trying to keep himself from laughing. What was funny here? What the hell was Malfoy on? It was a prank. Malfoy was just humiliating him. This was his revenge. Of course. He didn't know what to do. He was getting angry. Maybe he could hit him with the flowers. 

While Harry came to this obvious conclusion, Malfoy had come even closer to him, in the perfect spot to murmur right in his ear:

"Yes, you asked first. But it was awful. So I'm doing it properly to show you how it's done. Now accept you can't do anything right and just say 'yes'."  
"Fuck you."

Draco laughed. 

"I'm going to go through with it and make you the biggest favour ever and take it as a 'Yes'."

The Slytherin freed Harry's hands and walked away.

"See you at the Ball Potter."


	2. Will you dance with me?

Harry had wanted to delete that evening from his memory, and if possible from reality. Believe it had been a heck of a wild dream. But it had not been a dream at all. He knew this because people talked about it, and Ron and Hermione could not help but not let him forget because they, too, needed to process it. He also knew this because Malfoy would sometimes look at him and  _ smile _ . Which was really too weird to Harry's taste. He awaited the punchline of the joke. The moment it would fall on him. The moment Malfoy would put his final plan in execution and completely annihilate him. But it did not seem to be going to happen anytime soon. 

Two days after that unfamous evening, Malfoy walked up to Harry after breakfast, as they were going to class.

"Good morning,  _ Harry _ ."

"What do you  _ want _ ?"

"I should have known you couldn't be polite. I will get used to it, in time. I happened to think you might not have had proper dancing lessons. Am I wrong?"

Harry thought about that one time McGonagall danced with Ron and tried to teach them. He then remembered the days spent with Mrs. Figgs.

"I have had dancing lessons, actually. So you're wrong."

"They were not  _ proper _ lessons, so I was right,  _ actually _ . What are you doing at five this afternoon?"

"What? I don't know, er... "

"Nothing? Perfect." Malfoy grabbed his hand. "Then meet me in front of the library, I'll see how you dance."

And then he left them, going to his own class. Harry looked at his hand. 

"I think you broke him." said Ron, with caution, as if saying it could cause something worse or weirder to happen.

"Oh?  _ Really _ ? Why would you say that? I have to go to the bathroom."

"Are you sick?"

"I have to wash my hand! He touched it. He  _ held _ it, Ron. He's gone mad and he's going to drive me mad too. Maybe I can break him back into hating me if I act like him too."

"Harry I'm... not sure that's how it works."

"But yes, I might be sick."

At the end of the day, after his last class, Harry debated going to the library or not. Surely Malfoy would not like it if Harry did not follow his desire, huh. But then maybe he would act worse, if that was possible - Harry trusted Malfoy to find something worse to do. So he went. His pace was not light, and more than once on the way he stopped and turned back, but he went. Malfoy was already there. He greeted him and lead him to an empty room.

"Privacy and space, this room is perfect to practice." Draco declared, putting his bag down in a corner. "Just put your bag anywhere, it's easier to dance without a bag on, trust me."

Harry crossed his arms, not making a movement to remove his bag.

"Alright. What's the problem? I am  _ not _ going to the Ball with someone who doesn't know how to dance."

"Why are you doing this? You could - no, you should be going to the Ball with, I don't know, Parkinson, or any other pureblood Slytherin girl. I'm neither of these. I'm not a girl, I'm not a Slytherin," he mumbled, "and I'm not even pureblood, thanks to my mom! I'm absolutely NOT what you should bring to the Ball. Wasn't it enough to ask me out in the Great Hall? What's the end goal?"

Malfoy laughed, which only made Harry frown more. 

"I admit, I thought you were cleverer than that. Or I didn't think that stupid. There is no greater end goal than exactly what I'm doing here." He had come to Harry's height and put his hands on Harry's arms. "I am being the perfect boyfriend, and this is driving you mad, because you know I hate you, and you hate me, and you could never be on my level. But it's too late, you're going to the ball with me, and I will make sure you know how to dance. So now you put your bag down, and you dance."

"You will regret this Malfoy, I'll make sure of it."

"Sure, can't wait to see. Now, show me how you dance, will you?"

Two hours later, Harry sat for dinner with his friends.

"So…? How did it go?" dared to ask Ron.

"I'm going to die from an overdose of Malfoy before the 2nd Task, but he'll lose his feet on the way. He's insufferable. I hate him so much."

"Can't you just… dump him?" suggested Hermione.

"If I dump him, he wins. I have to one-up him. I have to be worse than he is. I have to make him suffer more than he makes me suffer."

"Are you sure-"

"He won't win this Ron, mark my words."

Harry put a fork full of food in his mouth, chewing with hatred. Ron and Hermione both kept silent, exchanging a look, unsure whether they should say something or let their friend do things his way.

"Beside", added Harry once he'd swallowed the bit, "I need a partner for the ball, and I guess Malfoy is better than nothing…" 

"I'm not asking Parkinson out just to have a partner." winced Ron.

Harry nodded solemnly, agreeing to this statement. 

The first week went by, Harry had innocently stepped on Malfoy's feet to his heart's contempt. He would never admit it, but the lessons were actually useful. It was probably killing Malfoy to compliment him on his progress, but he knew it was true. At least partly. On Monday morning, seven days before the Ball on Sunday, a package arrived for Harry. A letter was tied to it.

_ Dear Harry, _

_ Please accept this dress for the Ball. I can't wait to see you wearing it. I have ordered another dress for me that will go with it perfectly so that we match. _

_ See you at five. _

_ Love, _

_ Draco. _

Harry set fire to the letter.


End file.
